


Mr Segundus and the Dragon

by darksylvia



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell & Related Fandoms
Genre: Dragons, Gen, english magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 06:35:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20502494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darksylvia/pseuds/darksylvia
Summary: Mr Segundus participates in a curious ritual and meets a dragon.





	Mr Segundus and the Dragon

It was an obscure spring tradition at Starecross village to visit the Dragon (a low hill shaped like a dragon, if one was imaginative enough), and make an offering and a speech of some kind, thanking it for its protection. It also was a good excuse to celebrate the return of better weather.

Mr Segundus only became aware of it after he had been living at Starecross Hall for some time. It was during the exciting, but somewhat fraught time when he was transitioning Starecross from a madhouse to a school for magicians. The villagers had accepted him unreservedly as an employer, but were somewhat more reticent about including him in village life. This was not his fault: he was a gentleman (although a poor one, with few airs toward greater society), and he was a magician (a real one, not the sort that sets up a yellow curtain and spouts nonsense words). As such, the villagers did not quite like to share their superstitions with him. At best, they felt, he would laugh, and at worst, he would denounce their traditions like a particularly pious clergyman.

On the first truly lovely day in April, (when the sun’s warmth could finally be felt instead of just imagined), the village prepared to go to the Dragon, when who should come to town but Mr Segundus. 

Mr Segundus thought a walk was just the thing on such a fine day, and had decided to post his letters and talk to his neighbours. But upon arriving at the village, he found most of them assembled in the small square, all dressed in green and carrying baskets full of assorted spring greenery. With the instincts of a life-long magic scholar, he understood it to be a ritual of some sort, rather than simply a strangely appointed picnic.

“Is it not lovely weather?” said Mr Segundus to the farmer, Mr Heywood, who acted as an unofficial headman (being one of those people who is steady and can be approached for good advice, and of a temperament to share his good fortune).

“Aye,” said Mr Heywood, looking somewhat abashed in his green clothes. He thought well of Mr Segundus, not the least of which was because Mr Segundus always appended a “Mr” to Heywood’s own name, which was not a courtesy that was afforded to him very often by nobility, however minor.

“Is it a local holiday of some sort?” prompted Mr Segundus. There were many days in the North, he’d found, that were not celebrated in the south. He’d read many books about the Raven King, of course, but not about how his own people remembered him.

“We’re going to see the dragon!” said a small child, whose hand was being held by her mother, and who was dancing in a rather impatient manner, as if Segundus was inconveniently imposing on her with his adult chatter.

“Oh!” said Mr Segundus, at a loss. He did not want to ask for clarification in case it caused them to become defensive.

“You’re welcome to come, Mr Segundus,” said his own housekeeper, Mrs Tallow, who understood Segundus rather better than the rest of the villagers, and knew there was no harm or mockery in him, although she received a few dismayed looks at her invitation.

“I thank you for the invitation. Perhaps I will come just for a little while. I don’t mean to be an…” he looked at the small child, “imposition. Only it is such a very lovely day, I can’t imagine spending it indoors.”

So he fell in with the group and went out to the Dragon, which was a pleasant walk out-of-town. Upon arrival, the children all scattered with gleeful shrieks, as if this was the best portion of the holiday. They went scrambling over the hill with games of chase. The adults, with a similar jovial air, arrayed themselves in a circle and set to work on a project involving the greenery. Mr Segundus saw shortly that they were weaving a very large garland, and so after assisting by arranging empty baskets out of the way, was eventually entrusted in part of the weaving. His labour was welcome enough: it was a large garland, and the more hands that worked on it, the faster it was made.

When it was finished, it took up a very wide area. The children came shrieking back from their various activities, and every hand in the village carefully took up a portion of the garland. Segundus did as they did and found himself walking through the grass toward one end of the hill, the jubilant mood of the crowd affecting him even though he did not really understand the ritual.

As they approached, several of the children broke off and scrambled up the slightly rocky edge. Mr Segundus saw, then, that the hill was one of the large glacier stones, now worn down and grown over with thick grasses and even a tree or two.

To the waiting children was handed the edge of the garland, and they pulled it up carefully until it hung over the outcropping of rock. It was at this point that Mr Segundus could finally understand some of what they were doing. The outcropping did look a little like the snout of a dragon if one were fanciful enough (and Mr Segundus was fanciful enough, having been attracted to his very profession through a deep well of romanticism that only became overlaid with sober scholarly affectation much later). And from there it was only a small step to seeing the rest of the hill as the body of the great beast, laid down in repose. There was even the suggestion of a spine.

“Hail The Dragon!” yelled the children, which was echoed heartily by the rest of the crowd. 

The children scrambled back down and stood with the group. Then the assembled village proceeded, much to Segundus’ astonishment, to step forward one by one, lay a hand on the snout-shaped outcropping, and murmur thanks. Some were more quiet than others, as if the thanks were for a private thing they did not wish known, but some were bold, grinning, thanking it for protection against a flood or a storm. (Segundus supposed it did afford some protection against these things. It was positioned to block much of the weather from the direction of the coast).

Before he quite knew it, he decided he also should thank the Dragon. It would not do to look as if he thought himself above his neighbour’s ritual, and Segundus was truly not the sort of man who thought himself above them, anyway, so abstaining would accomplish nothing except to gain their distrust.

He stepped up and thanked the Dragon for sheltering his school. Then, thoughtfully, he added that he hoped it might give the school its blessing as well, since it had started in so precarious a manner. That was when the most extraordinary thing happened: the Dragon answered.

At first, Segundus could not even process the answer. He looked around, instead, to see if the villagers were as shocked as he was, but since he was the last one to give his thanks, most of them had broken away instead to set out a picnic, and the children had all gone back to their games. In any case, no one else seemed to have heard anything. 

“I’m sorry,” said Segundus. “I have never spoken to a dragon and I did not quite catch what you said.” He half expected to get no response. Perhaps the first instance had been a trick of his senses. 

Instead, it answered, like a low, rolling thunder at a great distance, “You may have my blessings.”

“Oh!” said Segundus, now truly alarmed.[1] However, he gathered his wits said, “I thank you most humbly.” Then, because he was a scholar and a magician, and did not like to leave such an opportunity unexplored, he added, “I hope it is not impertinent, but might you tell me how it is you came to be here? Only, I did not know there was a dragon still in these parts.” He carefully omitted that he had not known there was a dragon in any parts, at least not in this world, but there was no reason to tell a dragon all its brethren were gone if it did not already know.

“I suppose it is not too impertinent,” allowed the Dragon. “It has been at least a century since I conversed with someone who could understand me. I am not overly social, but a hundred years is quite a long time to go without a word spoken.”

“I had no idea of your presence or I would have come to converse with you sooner!” declared Segundus. Meanwhile the villagers had all withdrawn to a small distance away, and left him to it, thinking that Segundus was no more eccentric than they expected a magician to be.

“As to your question,” said The Dragon, “I would say it has been several hundred years and more since I came to settle here. It is comfortable country. We sleep for great periods of time, you understand, especially when it is cold. I think it is warming somewhat, these last two hundred years. I am awake more often.”

“Perhaps it has to do with the return of magic to England,” offered Segundus. 

“I was unaware magic had left,” said The Dragon, “You mentioned a school for magicians, I believe?”

“Oh yes,” said Segundus. “It is not quite opened yet. I have laboured over it for several years, but it is finally to be opened in the autumn.”

“Then I give my blessings unreservedly,” said The Dragon. “The world could stand to have more trained magicians. Why, just a hundred and fifty years or so ago, I was accosted by a most impertinent pretender of a magician[2] who demanded I perform several magical services for him, without even an ounce of decorum or politeness. He positively shouted Latin at me, as if I were both deaf and uncultured. Why, had I not been so comfortable, I should have risen and eaten him!”

“That is very unfortunate,” agreed Segundus hastily. 

“Though when people are polite, like these villagers, I quite like to listen to them,” allowed the Dragon.

A new thought occurred to Segundus and before he could think too hard on it, he said, “If you would welcome company, sir, I could come to converse with you, or perhaps when they are sufficiently trained, I could bring my students. Surely it would be very good for them to learn there are greater beings in the world and that they should always mind their manners.”

“I suppose that might be entertaining,” mused the Dragon. “As long as it was not too often.”

“How often would be suitable to you?” asked Segundus, rightly wondering if “often” meant a hundred years and a day to a dragon. 

“Oh, once a full moon would be sufficient. More, and we might become tedious to each other.”

“That is very reasonable and generous, sir.” Segundus thought he would find it hard to regard talking to a dragon as tedious, but he was too polite (and sensible) to contradict an ancient magical being who might still rise up and eat him if given enough provocation.

“Excuse me, Mr Segundus,” said a voice behind him, diffidently. It was one of the older children, who looked uncomfortable at having to address him, and so had clearly been sent to do so, rather than of his own volition.

“Yes, er, Thomas?” said Mr Segundus.

“Mrs Braithwaite told me to tell you that we’ve set aside a portion for you, should you like to come eat, sir,” said Thomas, and having delivered his message, he bobbed his head and dashed away.

“Well. Until next time, sir,” said Segundus to the Dragon. There was no response, but he did not let this bother him. Instead, he went off and ate quail and root vegetables, and the first greens of spring, among his neighbours, who all thought him a much more trustworthy personage, now.

When he returned to Starecross Hall in the late afternoon, he sat down in his study and composed a long list of questions he should like to ask a dragon. After that, he began a very thorough enquiry into past stories and dealings with dragons. When he next spoke to the Dragon, he intended to be very prepared, indeed.

—

Notes 

****

1\. There are many legends of marauding dragons, and every English child knows the story of Saint George and the Dragon, but most of the hostilities took place before John Uskglass’ reign after which few dragons dared to attack England. Some even negotiated with the King for the right to settle in obscure areas by swearing not to harm England’s inhabitants or livestock. Therefore, Mr Segundus was right to be alarmed, but was not unduly so.[return]

2\. This may have been Gregory Absalom, which would mean it was more than likely two hundred and fifty years ago. It is unknown what Absalom would have wanted with a dragon, but perhaps it was for inclusion in his book The Tree of Learning.[return]


End file.
